


Getting There Slowly

by twisting_vine_x



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-19
Updated: 2012-06-19
Packaged: 2017-11-08 02:53:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/438336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twisting_vine_x/pseuds/twisting_vine_x
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: In which Castiel is getting information from some unorthodox sources, and Dean has become far too distracted by those way-too-blue eyes.</p><p>(A/N: A quick snapshot into the lives of Dean and Castiel, set not long after our heroes’ encounter with Famine. First little story I ever wrote for this fandom.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Getting There Slowly

“Cas?”

When there was no answer, and Castiel remained crouched down in the dingy alley, Dean fought the overwhelming urge to bang his already aching head against the dirty brick wall. He was bruised and bloody, with a nasty gash across his forehead that kept shooting tendrils of pain throughout his skull, and he suddenly had very little patience for whatever aspect of humanity had now caught Castiel’s attention.

“Dude, what the hell are you doing?”

Castiel was crouched in the dirt, trench coat resting against his legs like a pair of weary wings, and he seemed to be staring intently at… was that a fucking cheeseburger wrapper?

_“Cas.”_

“One moment, Dean.”

“No way, man.” Dean moved forward and tried to yank him up, but it was like trying to uproot a tree by hand, and he settled for tugging vainly at the material around Castiel’s shoulder. “Ugh, Cas – for fuck’s sake, man, we don’t have time for this! Unless Meg’s hiding in that dumpster, I’m not interested – and if you’re staring at that wrapper, you’re looking for love in all the wrong places.”

Castiel’s only response was to tilt his head slightly, as though listening to something only he could hear, and Dean ground his teeth together as he wondered what he had done to deserve the loyalty of the most curious angel in the entire history of existence.

“Cas –”

“I may know where she is.”

“What, from communing with a dead cheeseburger bag?”

“Not exactly.”

“Then what the hell are you –”

It was only when Castiel shifted slightly that Dean realized that his fingers were still curled into Castiel’s coat, and he pulled them free as though burned, wondering when exactly he had given himself permission to hold on. His self-disgust was cut short when the cheeseburger bag moved, and several tiny grey figures shot out across the alley, their little feet making a scratchy sound against the filthy pavement.

“Ugh.” Dean instinctively took a step back, and then tried to pretend that he hadn’t been startled, pasting a scowl across his face. “I hate rats.”

“Rats are incredibly intelligent creatures, and demons leave an imprint of sorts on the subconscious of certain animals.” Castiel climbed to his feet while Dean was still trying to process this, and when he turned to face Dean, there was almost a smile on his face. “You truly believed I was receiving revelation from a cheeseburger bag?”

Dean fought back the urge to feel like an idiot. “So what, then – you were talking to those rats?”

“Humans are not the only creatures capable of certain levels of sentient awareness, Dean. It is only human arrogance that assumes it so.”

Castiel had already begun moving as he spoke, and Dean muttered an unhappy curse as he hurried to follow, trying to shed the image of rats getting together and planning a revolt against humankind. “So what, when something evil passes by, animals are just as affected by it as humans?”

“Sometimes more so.” Castiel had slid into another alley, and pressed himself against the wall, his too-blue eyes scanning the area as Dean slid in beside him, their shoulders gently brushing together. “Rats cannot communicate at humans can, but their memories seemed to indicate that there have been sensations of evil in this area of the city – possibly close to the abandoned apartment at the end of this alley.”

“Great.” Dean tried to pretend that the swooping sensation in his stomach was from adrenaline, and not from the rumble of Castiel’s lowered voice, which sent shivers across Dean’s tired skin. “We’re taking directions from a couple of rodents.”

“I believe the human expression is, ‘Don’t knock it ‘til you try it’.”

Castiel’s perfectly bland expression never changed, his serious eyes still surveying the dingy alley, and Dean nearly punched himself in the face in his haste to get a hand across his own mouth, trying to smother a laugh that would have alerted the entire city to their presence. When Castiel cocked his head and put on a slightly quizzical expression, looking for all the world like a confused puppy, Dean had to wait a moment before he trusted himself to speak.

“Dean?”

“Dude, you’re awesome, you know that?”

Dean was grinning so hard it actually hurt, but he somehow couldn’t manage to censor himself, especially when he watched a sudden realization slide over Castiel’s eyes – the awareness that he had been the one to make this unhappy human laugh. This new knowledge seemed to be heralded by a sudden lightness in Castiel’s unnaturally blue eyes, and Dean’s heart turned over as a half-smile tugged at Castiel’s lips. 

“I do not, but if you believe so, it must be true.”

“’Bout time you start trusting me.”

Castiel’s smile became almost wistful, and Dean suddenly wondered how exactly an angel could be so easily emotive. Were his expressions perhaps directed by Jimmy Novak’s muscle memory, maybe combined with Castiel’s own observations of human interaction, as everything came together to somehow convey Castiel’s emotions?

“I have always trusted you, Dean. I would not be here if I did not.”

It was like getting punched in the gut and the ribs at the same time, and Dean found himself lost for words as Castiel just stared at him, his customary intensity somehow dialled up another notch in the dimness of their little alley. After a moment in which Dean could have sworn his heart had actually come to a stop – and seriously, what was with the way Castiel just kept fucking looking at him, as though he could still see right through him? – Castiel finally pulled away from the alley wall with another slight smile, leaving Dean feeling like a marionette whose strings had been cut.

“Come along, Dean. We can discuss how awesome I am once Meg has been captured.”

The deadpan words were obviously meant as a jest, but Dean couldn’t find it in him to laugh anymore, still trying to recover from the painfully truthful way Castiel had just knocked Dean on his ass. Sliding into step beside Castiel, his eyes on his surroundings but his mind reeling from what had just happened, he reluctantly wondered just how much of Castiel’s loyalty came from a decidedly unangelic fascination with Dean.

_I did it, all of it, for you._

Swallowing down what would have been a decidedly shaky exhalation, Dean attempted to ignore the pleasant burning sensation in his gut, moved a little closer to Castiel, and steadied his shaking hands enough to pull out his gun.

There would be time to figure this out later. For now, they had a demon to capture.


End file.
